Quilting to the Edit

When the FedEx package arrived it sat on the kitchen table pulsing from the inside out like a guilty conscious.

What was the worst that could happen? Would she hate it? Perhaps the writing would be so bad that she changed her mind and wouldn’t take the project on after all. Would it be such a gnarled ball of yarn that we’d have to just toss it out and start with another? I didn’t open it for a long time.

I know it’s a good story. I know the writing has many strengths and weaknesses. My biggest fear was that my dad would look at the edits of his stories and freak out. I’ve been writing for many years. I know the editing process from being in critique groups, classes, conferences, and workshops. I know how editing is like taking a finely detailed patchwork to the final quilting stage, to beautify the piece with defining lines and curves. We’ve rearranged the patches so many times that I felt confident in it’s readiness for completion. Although I do know that some of the patches will need to be replaced with fabric that flows easier on the eye. That objective eye is our editor.

When I turn a piece over for someone to critique or edit I know I’ve written it in my voice, from my truth, and as well as I am able. I know that once it’s out of my head and onto the paper, that story is mine. It’s like the words were filtered through the perceptions of my mind and given to another to try to comprehend. Just as in conversation, an exchange back and forth clarifies the point and fosters understanding. That is the editing process. Someone else has the task of grocking the piece, fine tuning the words into easily readable lines and curves like that of a quilt that takes you on a journey through all the color, patterns, and pieces of patchwork.

So when I did open the package I saw red ink dripping off the pages. I saw slash marks cutting entire paragraphs. Red words filled the spaces between the lines. I saw someone really taking me seriously! I was thrilled! I am thrilled! No one is patting me on the back and assuring me that it is good. I don’t want good. I want well done, magnificent, a work of art. I want a reader to be compelled to turn the pages over and over again and not want it to end. I absolutely love this process. I love working with another, learning about sentence structure, punctuation, and grammar. I’m not good at that and the editor is great at that. I love collaborating, taking suggestions, making a story flow so the reader doesn’t have to think about anything but the story.

Dad and I have been going over it today. After his initial shock of what he perceived as a bloody massacre, he settled into the notion that his voice would be preserved and his writing would actually read a little easier with a few rearranged patchwork pieces. The story remains the same and it’s preparing to receive the final quilting stitches.

I’m exhausted. I’ve worked on the manuscript for twelve hours today. I’ve been in heaven! But now it’s time to take a break and put the computer away. I’ll go cuddle up under my own quilt now and know I’ve had one of those perfect days filled with doing everything I wanted to do and loving everything I did.

Good night!

Kathy